For Science
by randolhllee
Summary: Nanny AU: Shaw is in charge of the kid while Root is off doing whatever it is that Root does. Hilarity and fluffy hijinks ensue. You know the drill. For Tumblr user lastminutegenius2-0.
1. Chapter 1

"All her stuff is in the bag, I think." The taller woman gestured vaguely to the other end of a large, bright living room, albeit one that seemed to barely have been touched since the paint dried. Sam tilted her head back in ever-present annoyance and let the smallest of huffs escape her throat. Even for a paying job, this was already too much.

"So like diapers, toys, snacks, that kind of stuff, that's all there, right?" she asked, regarding the woman who had called herself "Root" upon introduction. Her hair was loose and well-cared-for; she wore simple if fairly expensive clothing, and Sam could appreciate the leather jacket. She did not look insane. But neither did she act like the average sort of person handing her child off to a stranger for the first time.

Of course, referring her as a fill-in nanny without her permission was the first black mark on her adviser's tally, so the employer in question turning out to be crazy was really only to be expected. The words "you really ought to develop your people skills, dear, and it pays well" were enough to put that woman on Sam's shit list, but encountering Root had certainly moved her up a few spaces.

"I assume so," Root answered breezily as she shrugged a leather bag over her shoulder. "I'll be back after work, and we can discuss your payment then." Sam narrowed her eyes at the various meanings Root insinuated into the word 'payment.' She had seen the way her new employer was looking at her, and no way was she going there, not while also watching the kid. Maybe at the end of the week, though, if she wasn't in prison for infantile homicide by then. And what time exactly was after work?

The kid was kicking up a fuss from the floor at her feet, for the third time since Sam had gotten there. She picked up the baby at the same time as she realized that Root had never even told her the child's name, or touched the baby before she left, either. She rocked stiffly back and forth and tried to remember the previous semester's lessons on child-care, though the back of her mind wondered wild questions about the woman who had hired her.

"It's going to be okay," she said in a flat tone, rolling her eyes at herself. Her instructors had joked that the baby tone was always appreciated, but what really worked was the vocal vibrations in the speaker's chest reaching the infant. Thank God for small favors.

The baby started to make gruff little noises like some kind of animal. Then she accompanied the noises by nudging her head more and more insistently at Sam's chest.

"Oh hell no, little baby, bear, whatever you are," Sam protested. "You have to have a bottle somewhere." She caught sight of a gaily-colored bag next to the couch, one that certainly did not match the decor, and grabbed at it. Sure enough, there was formula and a clean bottle within.

The baby's quiet growls deepened as Sam prepared the formula. When she finally gave it to the little monster, they subsided, but they had already grafted the bones of an idea into her head.

"Little Bear's as good a name as any," she remarked decidedly. "Bear for short. I'll just have to remember not to call you that when your mom's around." The newly-christened Little Bear made no bones about this turn of events, so Sam shrugged. When Bear grizzled at being jostled, Sam looked down at her severely. "Hey, kid, this life is hard enough without your whining. How about I feed you, you don't complain, and we all live until I get paid?" Eye contact continued for several seconds. Sam nodded. "I'm taking your silence as tacit agreement."

"And now I'm talking to a pre-verbal infant like it can understand. This is all your fault, Little Bear."

Nowhere in the first floor could anything approaching a crib be found, so Sam settled for the padded sling-carrier she found in the bottom of the baby's bag. She had never before suspected that babies required bags larger than what she would pack for a ten-day trip, but then that only provided further proof that babies were dead weight. And drooly.

"Stop that," she warned Little Bear. Apparently excitement also stimulated saliva production. The terror was currently strapped to her chest in preparation for a hike up the stairs in search of supplies. Supplies such as a crib, or anything that would literally get the kid off her chest.

"I'm going up the stairs, don't freak out," she deadpanned at the foot of the stairwell. Bear gurgled happily and Sam grimaced downward. This only seemed to amuse the infant more, so Sam rolled her eyes at the vagaries of small humans and moved cat-like up to the second floor.

It was much dimmer upstairs, but Sam quickly located the lights at the top of the stairs.

"Which one's your room?" she asked absent-mindedly as she quickly glanced around the now-bright upper hallway. Upon further inspection, the first door was a bathroom, the second a master bedroom, and the third a guest room, none with any indication of a baby residing therein. She even double-checked the main bedroom, thinking that perhaps Root's insanity also manifested itself in having Bear sleep next to her bed, or worse, in her bed, but there was nothing to say that the woman did anything but sleep alone. And though Sam tried not to think about it, she did notice that the lack of proof of other people in Root's bedroom extended beyond just Bear. Not that she was interested, but she noticed things like that. And it was good to know about the home situation of your employer, especially if you worked in said home. It was perfectly logical to check.

Her observations of Root's bedroom notwithstanding, there was no evidence of Bear at all on the second story. Sam was so distracted by this that she nearly jogged down the stairs, but stopped herself in time to ease down, all the more careful now for her near-mistake.

"Guess you're going to help me write my report," she remarked to Bear. When she looked down, the baby was curled into her chest, already asleep. "Huh. Lot of good you are."


	2. Chapter 2

Sam woke with a start to the sound of the gravel driveway heralding an arrival. Her eyes adjusted to the headlights slashing across the walls, and she reached up to stretch, even though Little Bear's sling and soft weight limited her range of motion.

She had been cranky earlier in the evening, to the point that Sam was forced to pace circles around the house to make her sleep. Diaper-changing had been exciting in the least amusing way Sam could imagine, and Little Bear growled her matching distaste. Ultimately, though, the small child had slept through Sam's studies, lumped sleepily in her sling between Sam's chest and the table. Eventually, Sam too had closed her eyes for a brief catnap, which had now gone on for longer than planned.

She stood carefully and scanned for the kitchen clock. Nearly nine PM.

Sam frowned. Nice was pushing it. She made a note to put her foot down about times for the rest of the week.

Keys jangled in the lock, and Sam leaned on the table. She could not cross her arms over Little Bear, so she slipped up onto the table entirely and rested her feet on the chair she had just vacated, prepared to have a serious rule-setting battle with her employer.

Sam heard the clunk of boots hitting the floor before Root passed out of the back hall and into the kitchen. The taller woman slipped in on socks, seeming not to see Sam as she placed a large brown paper bag on the counter. She directed her face downward to unzip her jacket, but then paused and looked up when Sam cleared her throat. When she recognized Sam, her face relaxed from the guardedness it had assumed at the noise and she smirked.

"Oh good, you're still here," she chirped.

Sam looked at her as if she were a particularly random non sequitur.

"Where else would I be?" she demanded quietly, fearful of waking Little Bear. "What was I going to do, leave the kid here alone and go home?" Indignation stole her memory of resolving to be nominally people-friendly that week.

Root raised her eyebrows, but her smile did not diminish by a single watt. She stood for a moment, taking in the sight of Sam with the baby strapped to her chest, and her grin grew annoyingly wider.

"I guess not," she ceded. She turned and reached behind her to retrieve the bag from the counter, brandishing it enticingly. "Hungry?"

Sam narrowed her eyes and thought. She still had several chapters of MCAT prep she wanted to get through before crashing. Still, food was food.

"What is it?" she asked suspiciously, taking to her feet for investigative purposes. Instead of answering, Root held out the bag with a smirk. Shaw padded over and attempted to snatch the bag, but Root held on too, leaving her awkwardly peering into the depths of the greasy bag while standing entirely too close to the other woman.

"See something you like?" Root inquired. Shaw frowned and looked up, unamused. Root hastened to speak again, and she followed Sam's lead in speaking quietly. "It's Chinese, so there's a lot of variety. I was hoping that there'd be something you could sink your teeth into."

Although she was skeptical of Root's word choice and tone, which bordered dangerously on innuendo, the delicious aroma of egg rolls had already invaded her sinuses and taken control of her decision-making centers.

"Fine," she decided. Then, in a burst of exasperation, "but where do you keep her crib?"

"Something you wanted to get off your chest, Sam?" Root asked playfully. Sam glared, an expression she felt she had earned the right to direct at the other woman, but a small smile still adorned Root's lips as she shook her head and turned. "I think we left it in the front hall closet this morning," she threw over her shoulder on her way out of the kitchen. Sam quirked an eyebrow in an unasked question, but Root was already gone.

When Sam sauntered into the front hall, trying as nonchalantly as possible not to jostle Little Bear into wakefulness, Root was dragging a folded travel crib-playpen combo out of the closet. Sam's brow furrowed at this newest proof of a strange, strange household.

"Did you just move or something?" she asked in disbelief.

Root straightened from unfolding the crib, tossing her long hair behind her shoulder.

"Yes, actually," she smiled with a touch of surprise. "Okay, stick her in, and then we can go eat."

Stick her in? Really? Ignoring Root's offhanded instructions, Sam tucked an arm around Little Bear while reaching around behind herself with the other hand to unsnap the sling.

"Here, let me." With a tiny whisper of socks on carpet, Root was behind her, hands lingering a split second more than necessary on Sam's back. Sam shrugged her hands off and took a step forward. She shed the rest of the sling, then bent over and nestled Little Bear into the playpen. She froze when a soft grumble escaped the infant, but relaxed when the baby only smacked her lips and rolled a little in her sleep. When she straightened up, Root had already returned to the kitchen.

When Sam reached the kitchen door, Root was pulling containers and smaller plastic bags from the takeout carrier. She waved two packs of chopsticks at Sam.

"I thought we could just eat out of the containers, if you don't mind sharing a few germs," she proposed cheerfully.

Sam did not answer, but strode over to the table and shoved all her study materials to the other end to make room for the food.

"So you obviously didn't kill the baby," Root remarked as she settled into a chair. "Any problems?"

Engrossed in snapping her chopsticks apart and choosing the first container in which to sink them, Sam spoke without thinking.

"Nope, Bear slept most of the evening," she shrugged. She stuck most of an egg roll into her mouth, only looking up when Root did not speak again. When she did look, Root was laughing, and Sam frowned.

"You never told me her name," she protested grumpily. "And she sounds like a little bear. It worked."

Root kept laughing, but nodded. "You're right," she agreed, "she does sound like a bear." She grabbed her own container and dug in. "Her name is Irene, by the way, but I think I like Bear better."

"Little Bear," Sam corrected her.

"Little Bear," Root agreed. "Honestly, I don't know why she's named Irene in the first place." Yet another odd comment, but one that Sam was willing to let go in favor of fried rice.

She started determined to eat quickly and get home, but somehow Root sucked her into a conversation. It started there with Little Bear and ranged further, hitting on Sam's studies and Root's work, which had something to do with cutting-edge computer programming, then ranging farther afield. Sam found herself talking more than she ever did, and she did not feel more than a vague urge to leave. The realization was both strange and unwanted, so she pushed it to the back of her mind where it belonged.

After they had demolished nearly all of the containers, leaving only sesame cookies, both women slowed down. Suddenly, Root paused and held her chopsticks up.

"So Sam, tell me: babysitting?" she inquired. She jabbed her chopsticks at Sam, as if cueing the smaller woman's part of a two-person symphony.

Sam shook her head, but answered perfunctorily in the middle of a bite of Mongolian beef.

"Pre-med," she shrugged. "Needed money, and child-care looks better on med school applications than working the makeup counter at Macy's." When she raised her head from the container, she caught Root looking at her with something like amusement. Sam insisted to herself that there was no adoration in Root's eyes, but the yellow kitchen lighting made it hard to tell.

"I'm sure you'd be just _wonderful_ at customer service," Root murmured into a package of rice. Before Sam could spit out the indignant comment on her tongue, Root interrupted. "Which reminds me, we haven't discussed payment." Her smirk insinuated that more than money was on offer, a point which Sam had seen quite clearly.

The other woman was not much older than she was, attractive and intriguing despite, or perhaps because of, her strange and mysterious behavior, not to mention the confidence, but still, her employer. A lot of people claimed attraction to Sam, although it usually ended abruptly when she unleashed her tongue and personality; that was not shocking. What was truly surprising was that, despite her earlier certainty, she found herself entertaining the idea.

She must have been silent for longer than she thought, because Root's smirk deepened and she continued.

"You can ask for what you want, I'll agree to anything," she murmured pointedly. Was she _enjoying_ this? That had to stop, as did the expression in Root's eyes.

"Twenty bucks an hour," Sam hazarded. Fifteen seemed appropriate, but she was curious to see what Root said to a higher number.

The other woman only shrugged, strange expression gone.

"Twenty's fine," she said. "So that's, what, twenty-four times seven times twenty, so three thousand three hundred sixty. Let's round to thirty-five hundred," she suggested brightly. "Okay?"

Sam stuttered. That was a lot of money, but there was another _huge _problem.

"Twenty-four?! As in, you expect me to live here?!" she demanded. "Are you crazy?" The question slipped out before she could remember to be polite, but Root merely grinned.

"Not most days," she answered breezily. "But yes, I need you to stay here to take care of her. I certainly don't know how to do it," she chuckled.

Sam stared at Root, certain that despite what the textbooks said, this was what a psychotic break looked like.

"What the hell? What do you do the rest of the time?" she demanded angrily. A thought dawned on her. "Did you kidnap her?" she asked flatly. She eyed Root, assessing how best to defend herself if the crazy woman attacked her.

"What? No," Root answered with amusement. "She's my sister's."

Sam raised her face to the ceiling and groaned. Then she faced Root's bemused expression again. The other woman was enjoying keeping Sam in the dark entirely too much.

"Explain. Everything." Sam ordered, spitting both words with great force. Root complied with an entertained quirk of her lips.

"My sister had a work trip and decided to turn it into a vacation. Under the guise of giving me quality time with my niece, she dumped her here this morning," she explained, rolling her eyes.

Sam absorbed the information, integrating it into everything else she had sussed out from her day in the woman's house and company.

"Okay," she accepted grudgingly, "but I'm still not staying here."

Root pouted.

"I'll pay you well," she argued. That was true, Sam allowed. "And it's summer, you can't have much to do that you can't do from here." Also true. _Still_.

"I don't have any of my clothes or anything with me," Sam replied, but her argument was losing support fast.

Root grinned.

"You can borrow from me," she offered. "I'm sure we can find _something_ you like for tonight," she continued silkily, "and in the morning I can drive you over to pick up your things."

Sam ignored the continuing innuendo.

"I can come back in the mornings," she offered desperately. "You'd just have to watch her at night."

Root's face was smug, as though she knew Sam was about to cave.

"It won't work," she declared. "I'll pay you whatever you want, _however _you want," she stated, leaning forward, "but I. Need. You."

Sam broke the uncomfortably long eye contact with a smiling Root.

"Fine," she huffed. "But you're paying me four thousand," she added, if only to retain some sense of control.

Root's smirk and acquiescent nod did nothing to reassure her.


	3. Chapter 3

As Root rose to dispose of the mostly empty cartons, Sam sat in a food-induced stupor contemplating the ridiculous agreement she had just made. Live-in nanny for a week, bankrolled by a crazy woman who she still was not entirely convinced had not kidnapped Bear. There did not seem to be any particular reason Root should _want_ a baby, though, which made the sister story more likely.

"Penny for your thoughts, Sam."

Sam raised her head in response to Root's facetious offer as she returned to the table.

"You're sure you didn't kidnap her?" she asked, deadpan.

Root considered for a moment.

"Yes." She nodded, then grinned. "I'd remember."

"… right." Sam stretched her arms out to the sides, pivoting through her waist. She closed her eyes as her back cracked with a soft _pop_, and she let out an involuntary sigh. When she opened her eyes, Root was leering at her. "So," she trailed off, trying to think of a way to move this along into safer territory. "Where am I sleeping?"

Okay, that was not really _safer_. Root grinned wider and let the expression hang between them as a patently understood, only-half-joking offer. Sam held her eyes and her ground until Root chuckled.

"I have a guest room," she chirped. "And you can borrow some pajamas."

Sam shook her head.

"I have some gym clothes with me that'll work." God only knew what the woman deemed appropriate sleep-wear.

"Then I'll show you upstairs," Root smiled, rising to make good on her offer.

Sam shook her head and followed behind. This was going to be a strange week.

* * *

For the next four days, Sam strove not to think about the strangely harmonious rhythm into which the whole household fell. Hell, she was trying not to think of herself as part of the household at all. The uniquely temporary nature of the arrangement, though, clearly opposed the usual order of things. Root's solitary life was written on every barely-used piece of furniture and bare cupboard in the place. One person could not be called a household, Sam decided, but three could. That had to be the reason it felt this way, because the household was temporary and so was her place in it. That was all.

Still, this house, the good food and coffee, and sure, she begrudgingly admitted to herself, the company; all these juxtaposed with her usual triangle of apartment, school, and gym formed a strangely attractive counterpoint. Honestly, though, the coffee alone would have done that.

That first morning set the tone for the rest of the week. The wireless baby monitor Little Bear's giant bag of tricks had yielded the night before woke Sam several times during the night, and then early the next morning. After changing the baby, feeding her, and settling her back in her playpen with some soft toy or another, Sam headed back to the kitchen. She found the coffee instantly, an easy task considering the kitchen cupboards contained little beyond a tin of El Injerto and an impressive collection of plastic cutlery from a variety of takeout restaurants. By the time Root shuffled sleepily into the kitchen, Shaw had already formed a deep spiritual bond with the coffee. No matter how strange, the woman had good taste.

Root accepted the coffee Shaw handed her wordlessly, and remained so until she emerged from her room a second time, this time booted and jacketed for the day. She was nearly out the door with a quick "see you later" when Sam called after her.

"Give me money, I'll go to the grocery store," she demanded.

Root smiled wryly and dug out her wallet.

"I'm not really used to human company," she murmured into her satchel. She reached out to Sam with the money, but held onto the bills when Sam grabbed them. "Just get whatever you like." She released the cash then, and Sam saw that it was two hundred-dollar bills. "Keep the change!" Root called cheerfully over her shoulder as she strode out the door.

Sam shook her head and wandered into the living room, snagging her mug of heaven as she went.

"Your aunt's weird," she informed Little Bear confidentially. "You'd better hope it doesn't run in the family."

The baby gurgled seriously in assent.

* * *

On her third night, the loud crack of the back door against the wall behind it roused Sam from her studies. Unhappy at the noise, Little Bear started to wail fitfully. Sam sighed, picked her up, and sauntered into the kitchen to watch Root drag a large cardboard box in through the back hall.

"What's that?" she asked drily.

"It's for her," Root answered, straightening and gesturing to where Little Bear sat comfortably propped against Sam's hip.

Sam frowned, not at Root's actions, but at how they forced her to reassess her opinion of her employer. Every time she thought she had a fix on the woman, she went and did something like this: she came downstairs in her pajamas and thereby revealed that she slept in Star Wars boxers, or had a driver sent with car and car-seat to take Sam to pick up her things from her apartment, or did any of a dozen other unexpected things she had done since Sam had met her two days before. Even her suggestion of dipping Bear's pacifier in coffee to make it more palatable when she was fussy in the evening had turned Sam's working theories of the other woman on their heads.

The box, once artfully cut open by Root's enthusiastic pen-knife technique, proved to contain a state-of-the-art baby… something.

"What is that exactly?" Sam asked, balancing Bear on her hip as she leaned in closer to look.

"It's called a—" Root consulted the abandoned box. "—an activity center."

"It looks like you could torture someone with it," Sam noted. This prompted Root to look at the toy with renewed interest. Both women were roused from their contemplation of the so-called 'activity center' by Bear's babbling as she squealed and lunged for the floor. When Sam put her down to explore, Bear crawled straight for the box. Root looked vaguely put out.

"Well, she likes it," Sam remarked with amusement.

Bear shrieked her agreement, her excitement echoing from the box to mix with the sudden laughter erupting from Root and Sam.

* * *

After the first two nights of take-out, Sam texted Root to let her know that she would be trying her hand at cooking for the evening. Root seemed genuinely surprised to find steak, potatoes, and green beans waiting for her when she got home, and Sam noted the awkward way in which she navigated the meal.

It told her a lot about the other woman's usual solitude; unfortunately, the initial text also seemed to be the signal Root had been waiting for. For the rest of the week, Root checked in, flirted outrageously, and sent proud selfies to an increasingly-annoyed Sam. Judging by the disgruntled expressions of the faces of John and Harold, the most frequent co-victims of Root's self-photography, Sam was not alone in her irritation.

She was not even entirely sure what all Root did, but it seemed important. She worked for a computer security company, that much was clear, but she seemed to function in a constant state of conflict with Harold in particular. From little things Root said, Sam gleaned that her job involved finding holes in the systems Harold designed so that he could fix them. The main conflict arose from the fact that Root derived an ungodly amount of joy from finding Harold's mistakes.

By Friday, the entire affair had reached a pattern that felt normal, a descriptor that Sam usually avoided like the plague. She had not seen her own bed in days, and her workout regime was severely limited by the range of Bear's monitor, even when she _was_ asleep, but she still felt no urgency to return to her student's life. And Root's bed was extremely comfortable. Or rather, her _guest _bed; Sam tried not to think about Root's bed at all, no matter how often Root looked at her _that _way.

That night, after dinner, Root sidled up to her and made a token attempt to help unload the dishwasher. She kept looking at Sam, though, so much so that she nearly dropped three mugs before Sam grabbed them from her with a scowl.

"Studying tonight?" she asked casually as she rolled a plate between her fingers.

Sam rolled her eyes and snatched the plate to place it in the cupboard.

"Probably," she answered. "MCAT stuff. Why?"

Root's characteristic smirk slipped when she opened her mouth to speak, revealing a momentary flash of nervousness as Sam regarded her steadily.

"I was just thinking, I downloaded this movie, and all work and no play…" Root's words dragged off into an expressive shrug.

Sam thought about it.

"What movie?" she asked, just to gain some time to think of an excuse. That was funny, too; generally speaking, she had no problem being blunt about saying 'no.'

"Matrix: Revolution," Root answered eagerly, although she tried to cover it with a casual toss of her hair.

All of Sam's thoughts screeched to a halt and switched tracks.

"That's not out yet," she exclaimed. "How'd you get it?"

Root looked evasive, yet extremely pleased with herself.

"I know someone," she murmured. "You're a fan?"

"With those fight scenes? Hard not to be," Sam replied.

Root smiled adoringly. In the past, even from people she was ostensibly dating, those kinds of looks set Sam's teeth on edge, but Root's held no expectations at bay behind white teeth. That made a difference, it seemed.

"So, you want to watch with me?" Root asked again.

"Sure," Sam agreed. Root never actually crossed the line marking Sam's comfort zone, even if she did stand right on it and hang there tossing out badly-constructed innuendo. She could handle anything Root might try, in any case. And she had been waiting a long time to see that movie.

* * *

It wasn't terrible, actually. They passed the popcorn Root had made back and forth over Bear's sleeping form, whom Sam had placed in the center of the couch as a living, drooling buffer. That tactic proved to be completely unnecessary in the end. Root's commentary on the movie and all its drama was genuinely funny, and even though Sam had been known to physically deter those who talked through her beloved science-fiction-action movies, she found herself laughing out loud, stopping only to avoid waking Bear. The evening existed in a comfortable, lived-in sort of atmosphere that put Sam strangely at ease.

And if there was an lightly charged series of moments in the upstairs hall when Sam exited the bathroom, and Root's eyes followed her perhaps a little too closely until she closed the door to the guest room, Sam finally put it out of her head long enough to stop tossing and fall asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam looked out the window at the dreary Saturday morning rain dripping down to splatter on the sidewalk.

"It's fine. We can just take her to the zoo tomorrow," Sam decided. She caught the strange smile on Root's face. "What?"

"My sister's coming to pick up Bear tomorrow morning," Root reminded her, looking somewhere between amused and… something else. She looked sad, which was an entirely new expression on her face.

"Oh," Sam breathed. She looked around and grabbed Bear's bag before she could make any more of a fool of herself. "We can take umbrellas, I guess. Better corrupt her while you still can."

"Me?" Root protested laughingly. "You let her stay up past her bedtime every night!"

"If by 'stay up' you mean let her fall asleep on the couch instead of in her crib, then yes, I do," Sam retorted. "And it's not like you ever put her to bed, anyway," she added, rolling her eyes. She reached for the straps holding a bouncing Bear in her high-chair. When she had the baby well in hand, she looked around and realized what was missing when Bear started grizzling.

"Is her pacifier still in the car? Here," she said shortly, thrusting Bear into Root's hand. Root jerked, causing Sam to freeze with her hands still gripping Bear's wriggling waist, but Root's moment of panic passed.

"You got her?" Sam asked with her brow furrowed.

"Yeah," Root breathed. She was staring curiously into Bear's eyes, transfixed by the baby's serious gaze. All of a sudden, Bear clapped her hands and gurgled happily. Root let out her breath lightly. "Yeah, I've got her," she repeated more surely.

Sam looked back and forth between the two.

"Okay," she shrugged. "Be right back."

She jogged out to the curb and retrieved Bear's pacifier. When she re-entered the kitchen through the back door, Root and Bear were solemnly regarding the jumbled contents of the cupboards Sam had stocked over the course of the week.

"Got it," she announced. She frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Bear's picking her lunch," Root announced. "You have thirty seconds," she advised the tiny human in her arms. For her part, Bear waved her arms and grumbled.

"She's only a few months old," Sam informed her, crossing her arms.

She had interrogated Root for more information on that front earlier in the week, but Root had merely shrugged and fed her some bull about vaguely remembering a birth announcement or an invitation to a christening, she could not remember which, arriving several months before. When Sam called her out for lying, she had merely added that if it had not arrived by email, she would not have noticed it at all. Sam had once again asked if Root had kidnapped Bear, and that time, Root had looked amused yet truly puzzled, and replied, "Why would I want a baby?"

"Half of it's going to end up all over her no matter what flavor it is," she continued.

Root ignored her pessimism.

"She's been drooling at this one longest," she noted decisively as she grabbed at a gaily-colored jar.

"She drools at everything," Sam pointed out with no small amusement. Root had been warming to Bear throughout the week, that much was clear, but this was the first time Sam had seen her hold the infant, and she was willing to bet it was the first time ever. About damn time, too. Maybe next time Bear came to visit, she would not need to practically kidnap Sam in such a ridiculous fashion.

Not that that would be so bad, actually. Bear was very little trouble, in Sam's admittedly limited experience. Root was much worse, and even then, Sam only wanted to strangle her _some_ of the time. And she paid well, too.

Root's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Are we going to the zoo or are you going to stare at Bear all day, Sam?" Root teased with a twinkle in her eye.

Sam scowled.

"There's the little firecracker we know and love," Root simpered as she bounced Bear. Bear babbled and chose that moment to throw herself from Root's arms towards Sam. Root lunged too and managed to hold onto Bear, but Sam easily caught Bear under her arms and pulled her onto her hip.

"She does that," she informed a gaping Root breathlessly, looking up at the taller woman. Catching Bear had put her much closer to Root than before, and Root's steadying hand on the back of Bear's onesie made a strangely familial grouping in the center of the kitchen. They paused there for a moment, and a smirk grew on Root's face. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Sam stepped away.

"I'll get her dressed."

* * *

Sam collapsed in a sprawl on the sofa with a heavy sigh.

"Tired, Sam?"

Sam startled and raised her head. Root was curled up in a chair in the dark corner, glasses on and a tablet in her hands, cradling a mug against her side.

"After the week I've had? Yes," Sam answered. She could only manage a half-annoyed tone. "I hate zoos."

Root chuckled and rose from her chair. She padded across the room to settle gracefully next to Sam.

"The zoo itself or the people who go there?" she asked whimsically. Sam could feel Root's eyes studying her face, even before she turned her head to answer laconically.

"People," she admitted freely.

"C'mon, Sam, that one old man even called you cute!" Root prodded.

Sam chose to ignore that he had, in fact, commented on the cuteness of their 'family' and gone on to compliment Root on her luck in 'capturing' Sam's heart. Instead, she glared at Root. She was tired, that was all; that must be why her best facial expressions of imminent death were having no effect on the other woman.

"I think you like the zoo. I do." Root's declaration was accompanied by a self-satisfied expression as she settled her head on her hand, sitting sideways so that she could face Sam. "Why else would you insist on staying for four hours?"

"They only reason we stayed as long as we did was because Bear liked it," Sam grumbled. "She wanted to see the sea lion feeding."

Root grinned. They both knew Bear liked whatever she was placed in front of, then forgot about it as soon as it was out of sight. The exception was the stuffed bear Root had bought for her in the zoo gift shop, all the while grinning at her own cleverness. That particular toy had gone over exceptionally well, and was tucked in next to a slumbering Bear as they spoke.

"You know," she started casually, "I think I'm getting the hang of this baby thing."

"Right," Sam scoffed. "You've held her for five minutes, don't get ahead of yourself."

"I might ask my sister back for a visit, or if she wants another vacation, or anything," Root continued, ignoring Sam's sarcasm. "Who knows?"

"Well, I'm starting class in August," Sam pointed out. "I couldn't stay all day except on weekends."

Root raised her head and an eyebrow.

"Inviting yourself over, Sam? You like me that much?" she asked, half-joking and half-hopeful.

"No." Sam shook her head pityingly, but she smiled a little. Root got points for trying, even if her flirting was terrible. "I'd hate it if anything happened to Bear if you tried to take care of her. And," she added with a self-satisfied smirk, "you pay well."

"So there's no way you'd be here if I didn't pay you large amounts of money?" Root joked.

Sam shrugged and stood to stretch.

"I never said that," she pointed out. She looked back in time to catch Root's interested expression before creaking off toward the kitchen. "C'mon, we have to get all Bear's stuff together, including all the crap you bought her."

"I don't know where I put it all," Root murmured as she rose to follow. "This could take all night."

They shared an out-of-place smirk before turning away from each other, each a little confused, to start their mission.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam was deeply asleep one moment and wide awake the next, but unlike the last six mornings, it was not due to a wail emitted by the New-Age baby monitor provided by Bear's mother. This morning, a sudden irregular banging noise caused her eyes to fly open. The sudden realization that the light streaming in the windows meant she had far overslept Bear's usual wake-up call put her in motion immediately, and she was up and away the moment her bare feet hit the floor.

She began dashing down the stairs lightly, but slowed as she heard happy giggles from the kitchen. She rounded the corner and stepped carefully off the landing, then smiled involuntarily at the sight before her.

Root and Bear sat on the floor amidst an array of pots and pans. The baby provided an off-beat drum pattern with two wooden spatulas as Root looked on, adorned with a colander for a crown.

Upon seeing Sam, Bear babbled happily and crawled to her babysitter. Root removed the pot from her head sheepishly.

"Bear thought it was time you got up," she told Sam with a straight face. "It was all her idea."

"Right." Sam rolled her eyes and bent to swoop Bear up off the floor. "Did you eat yet?" she asked the baby, who was now reveling in the sound of her own lips smacking.

"Nope, just some coffee," Root responded from the floor, gathering up the pots and pans. She looked up to find Sam looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "Oh." She glanced down again. "Yeah, she ate."

"You fed her?" Sam asked casually. Root had attempted the same at the zoo the day before, but Bear had made it clear through increasingly loud protestations that she preferred Sam.

"I did," Root answered proudly as she stood.

Sam frowned at the kitchenware filling Root's arms.

"Where were you hiding all the kitchen stuff?" she inquired. "If I'd known you had it, I wouldn't have bought new stuff to make dinner the other night."

Root busied herself placing everything in the higher cupboards.

"I, um, I bought some things a few days ago," she said vaguely.

"Okay," Sam shrugged. She looked around and found most of Bear's things where they had left them the night before, barring only the bag of her clothes that remained in Sam's room. "What time is your sister getting here?"

"Should be any minute now," Root answered. She leaned pensively against the counter. "She's supposed to text me when they're close."

"They?" Sam queried. This was the first time Root had mentioned anyone else. Obviously it took two to make a baby, but Sam had simply assumed Root's sister was a single parent.

"My sister and her partner," Root clarified absently.

Sam was weighing the likelihood of a business partner against a life partner when Root glanced down at her phone.

"Oh. They're here."

"Root," Sam groaned, "she's not even dressed yet."

"Oh." Root cocked her head, apparently so proud of her success with breakfast that the thought of any other daily preparation Bear might need had fallen by the wayside.

"You go let them in, I'll get her dressed," Sam ordered. "And changed," she muttered as she carried Bear up the stairs. Root had warmed considerably toward her niece, but she drew the line at diapers.

* * *

As she rushed to dress Bear, Sam could hear the voices filtering up from downstairs. She listened as closely as possible; after a whole week with Root, she _really_ wanted to know if her sister was quite as strange.

"And where is my daughter?" That voice sounded mildly neurotic. Sam allowed that growing up with Root might do that to a person. She threaded Bear's waving arm through her shirt and listened more closely.

Root's laughter and cocky tone drifted cleanly through the air.

"Relax, she's upstairs with the babysitter."

"So you did hire someone?" inquired another voice. This one was calmer, deeper, and British, but still a woman.

"I think the exact words you used in reference to me attempting to take care of her for the week were 'a horrific ordeal,'" Root stated sarcastically. Sam grinned. She would have thought that too.

"We wanted to give you time to acquaint yourself with your niece, not subject both you and our daughter to undue stress," the second woman teased. A romantic partner, then, and not a business one. Bear picked up on the familiar voices and started squirming excitedly.

"Did you?" the second voice asked anxiously. "Get to know her? You didn't work all week and avoid her?"

Sam could practically see Root shifting uncomfortably.

"I went to work but-"

"Tracy!" Sam's eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar name directed at Root, but then, Root had never quite seemed like the sort of name she had been born with.

"I spent time with her!"

"I told you that-"

The impending argument was cut off when Bear, unable to contain herself any longer, started growling and yelping with glee. Sam fastened the last button and gathered the infant up to head downstairs. When she reached the hall, she was confronted by a group coming up the stairs to meet her.

The leader of the group, a tall, curly-haired woman who looked vaguely like Root, reached for Bear and practically snatched her from Sam's arms.

"Hey, baby," she cooed. The other unfamiliar woman smiled and leaned in to kiss Bear. The infant sputtered with overflowing excitement, finally shrieking loudly to announce her happiness. Both women laughed.

Awkwardly, Sam looked away. A similar look of discomfort from Root caught her attention, and they nodded to each other.

"Myka?" Root managed to layer the single name with a history of annoyances, arguments, and affection.

Root's sister, Myka, Sam supposed, turned around to glare.

"May I hug my daughter for a second?"

"Can you do it downstairs?" For a moment, Sam caught a glimpse of what Root must have been like growing up. She felt a vague rush of sympathy for Myka.

The other woman placed her hand on Myka's back.

"Let's settle in downstairs," she suggested. "We can make introductions and talk there," she added, casting a curious eye towards Sam.

Myka nodded agreeably, and suddenly everyone was trooping down the stairs.

* * *

When they had settled Bear on the floor to crawl ecstatically between her mothers and sat down themselves, Myka cleared her throat.

"So, Trace, this is-" she gestured toward Sam.

"This is Sam," Root said firmly. "She's been protecting Bear from my neglectful ways."

Myka sighed.

"We never said you were-" Then she frowned. "What did you call her?"

Root's eyes flicked to Sam in a silent plea.

"I'm sorry," Sam volunteered. "It was my fault, I didn't know her name the first day, and she growls a lot, so..." She kept her face expressionless, hoping that they wouldn't react badly. Bear plopped down on the floor and looked between all the adults with wide eyes.

Instead of the expected anger at Sam, Myka rounded on Root.

"You never told her Irene's name?" she demanded indignantly. "_Really_?"

Her partner placed a hand on her arm.

"We did drop Irene off here rather unexpectedly," she soothed. "Your sister isn't used to having children around." She glanced around to find Sam's eye and smiled wryly. "And Sam's right, she does sound like a bear sometimes."

"Little Bear," Root corrected. Sam frowned at her. Root was slumped in her chair and staring off into the distance as if bored, looking at the group only when Bear crawled over briefly to tug at her foot.

"I'm Helena," Myka's partner offered, stretching to shake Sam's hand. "And this is Myka, Tracy's sister."

"I go by Root now," Root corrected listlessly.

"Right, sorry," Helena rushed to say, seeming more apologetic than was warranted by a simple mistake as to name preference. Sam pushed the name thing to the back of her mind for the time being as she reached to shake Myka's hand. Bear, intrigued by all the handshaking going on, grabbed Helena's hand for herself and proceeded to gum on her thumb, grinning all the while.

"Hi," Myka greeted her. She smiled at Sam, briefly but genuinely, before turning back to look disapprovingly at Root. "Well, she seems responsible at least. And what have you been doing all week while she watched Irene?"

Root rolled her eyes, and Sam jumped in. For some reason, she felt a strange urge to defend Root to her sister.

"She spent a lot of time with Bear in the evenings. We all ate together every night. And yesterday we took her to the zoo," she reported.

Myka's hands hovered behind Bear's back as the baby pulled herself up by Myka's jeans, but her eyes remained on Root as she asked, "That's nice, and can I count the number of times you've held her on more than one hand?"

"Myka-" Helena murmured.

"Actually, Root got up with her and fed her this morning," Sam cut in. "I've barely done anything today."

She had not said this in hopes of a grateful look from Root, she really hadn't, but the one she received was a nice surprise.

"Really?" Myka asked.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Root shot back.

Myka looked thoughtful.

"I'm sorry, Tr- Root," she sighed. "We've just had a very stressful time." She glanced at Helena. "It wasn't quite the relaxing work-pleasure mix we were hoping for."

"We work together," Helena explained to Sam as she squeezed Myka's hand. "We thought we only needed to tie up a few things before spending a few days relaxing, but," she sighed, "our work is rarely that predictable."

"What do you do?" Sam asked. She was aware that to ask would be polite, but she did not expect much in the way of an interesting answer. Luckily, Bear had decided to crawl over to say hi, which was always a good distraction should her mothers choose to drone on about whatever it was they did.

"We work with antiquities, oddities, that sort of thing," Helena answered vaguely.

"Aren't you with the Secret Service anymore, Myka?" Root asked, pulling herself out of her pouting with an expression of confusion.

"Yeah," Myka answered, trading sidelong glances with Helena. "We work on antiquities thefts and that kind of... thing." Root looked vaguely suspicious, but Sam was happy when Helena rushed to change the subject as Bear crawled over to join her mothers on the couch.

"So," she exclaimed, pulling her daughter onto her lap, "what did you, Aunt Root, and Sam do this week?"

Root winced at the 'Aunt' appended to her name, but given that Myka and Helena were both cooing over an extremely satisfied Bear, Sam was the only one who saw.


	6. Chapter 6

**Root and Shaw after Bear leaves with her moms. Sam sticks around for a last cup of coffee and answers to the many mysteries of Root. And when she decides to stay for dinner, well, they've got to occupy the afternoon somehow.**

_Many thanks to lostinillusia for beta-ing this last chapter aeons ago, only to have me abandon the fic for over a year. Her comments were the impetus for this chapter to ever get written/published, even if it took me forever :) Thank you!_

* * *

Root shut the door behind the departing family and leaned on it heavily with a sigh.

"Thank God they're gone," she groaned.

Sam laughed. Especially in contrast to her bossy older sister, Root's sporadic immaturity had suddenly made her seem younger than her usual facade would indicate.

"I thought you liked Bear," she teased as Root flopped down onto the sofa, knowing it to be true.

"Bear? Yes," Root asserted. "But Myka's a little overbearing."

"Seems like it," Sam agreed neutrally. She settled into the corner of the sofa next to Root. "So Tracy, huh? No wonder you switched. Even if Root is still a weird name."

Root chuckled and shook her head.

"That's a long story."

Sam studied her with interest. It didn't seem like something that should have a story at all. On top of that, Sam was abruptly aware that Root's awkward non-talkativeness and reluctance to make eye contact were perhaps borne of uncertainty. Suddenly, she was not an in-control professional adult, nor a sulky younger sister; she was a young woman, perhaps a few years older than Sam, but just as alone. And maybe lonely. Not that that influenced any of Sam's responses.

"Well," she answered casually, "technically your week isn't over until tomorrow morning. So I've got time."

Root studied her right back.

"Coffee?"

Sam closed her eyes and rolled her neck.

"Definitely coffee."

She trailed behind Root to the kitchen. Sam had run in and made coffee for everyone while they talked, and the remains waited for them as a reward for the morning's trials.

"So, long story," Sam prodded as she settled cross-legged on one of the kitchen chairs.

Instead of sitting across from her, Root chose to sit in the seat next to Sam. She sipped at her coffee and raised an eyebrow.

"Curious, Sam?"

Sam raised her mug to her lips.

"It's better than sitting here in silence," she offered in a bored tone.

Root smiled, but looked away.

"It's complicated," she warned. When Sam shrugged and glowered to indicate she should go on, Root continued. "I'm in the Witness Protection Program."

Sam nearly spat her coffee out. As it was, she froze with her mouth full until her mind caught up to her ears.

"Witness Protection?" she exclaimed.

Root watched her with amusement.

"I don't usually get to tell people, but if I had known it was this much fun, I'd have started doing it sooner," she murmured into her coffee mug.

Sam gathered herself and finally swallowed her coffee.

"Isn't it kind of a secret?" she asked curiously.

Root shrugged and looked down.

"So why are you in it?" Sam pressed. She leaned back in her chair, interested in both the story and in seeing Root somewhat speechless.

"My mom used to tell me to follow my talents," Root said, smiling at the thought. "Of course, I'm really good at hacking, so…" she trailed off, then started again. "I did a lot of work on the less legal side of the field. Myka kind of…" she gestured, "figured it out. She talked me into giving up some of my colleagues," she chuckled at the word, "and going into the program. Starting over."

"That's… annoying," Sam decided. She backtracked. "Not the Myka part, just… having to start over. That sucks."

Root shrugged again.

"I didn't exactly have a lot to leave behind," she chuckled with a tinge of sadness. "Certainly no _one_. I just packed a couple things, my best laptop, moved here, bought everything I needed." She laughed. "I wasn't supposed to have an internet connection for a while during the trial. Getting around that was annoying." She sipped at her coffee and stared into her lap. "I'd never met Bear before because it was too dangerous. Myka and HG used their secret government clearance or something to be allowed to visit me. I'm surprised they even brought Bear at all, honestly."

Sam wanted to say something, but things like 'Myka loves you and trusts you' just felt too strange coming out of her mouth. Before she overcame her dilemma, Root spoke again.

"I'm not even sure what they do. I tried to find out once, but there was a hidden virus or something that overheated my computer. Ten minutes later, Myka was on the phone yelling at me about it. I'm still surprised she advocated for me to be allowed unfettered tech access after the trial."

"But you work with computers and cybersecurity now," Sam noted. "They trust you?"

Root raised her eyebrows at Sam's blunt words, but the smile belied any annoyance she might have exhibited.

"Harold knew Myka's boss, Arthur something, from college," she explained. "He recommended me. Harold still doesn't trust me completely." A shadow crossed her face, but then she smiled again. "But She's pleased with me, which is what matters."

"'She'?" Sam inquired.

"Runs the company. Harold's boss," Root explained shortly. She seemed uninterested in continuing that line of conversation, so Sam tried again. She was doing that a lot with Root, it seemed. Trying, that is. It was strange.

"Okay, so, you could have any name you wanted and you chose Root?"

"Root is a nickname," Root informed her haughtily. "My legal name is Samantha Groves now."

"That's almost worse," Sam decided.

"Samantha's your name too!" Root exclaimed.

"No it's not," Sam answered, shaking her head vehemently. "Sam is short for Sameen." She rarely told anyone this, lest they mistake her for a friend.

Root cocked her head to the side. "Sameen. That's really pretty." She grinned. "I like it. Sameen."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Definitely better than Tracy—what's the last name?"

"Bering," Root pronounced.

Sam considered that.

"That's okay. But Tracy is kind of terrible."

"Why do you think I call myself Root?" Root grumbled into her mug. "So what about you?"

Sam looked up to find Root studying her with a decidedly alarming sparkle in her eyes.

"What about me?" she demanded.

Root's mouth quirked happily and she gestured with her mug.

"Bear's gone. Why are you still here?"

"I can leave now, if you want," Sam offered sarcastically. "You asked me to drink coffee!"

"So we're having coffee," Root noted, taking a sip. "That's a step in the right direction."

Sam narrowed her eyes.

"I'm just here for the coffee," she declared.

"I was going to offer you the rest of that canister to take with you, actually, I can always get more." It was Root's turn to sit back in satisfaction. Sam mimicked the motion. Two could play at that game.

"I was going to steal it anyways, so that's convenient."

Root opened her mouth in a mock gasp.

"I can't believe I let an admitted thief take care of my darling niece for a week," she exclaimed playfully.

Sam scoffed.

"You wouldn't even hold her for most of the week. And," she reminded Root, "you _just_ told me that you're a criminal."

"You can't prove that," Root avowed, pointing good-humoredly at Sam. "I don't have a criminal record."

"Yeah, that makes it all better."

Suddenly, Sam realized what she was doing; she was sitting with Root, who had just revealed that she was a former criminal mastermind in Witness Protection, and they were drinking coffee and _laughing_. Sam never laughed with _anyone_.

"I should go," she exclaimed abruptly, suddenly feeling uncomfortably fenced-in by the coffee cup in her hands, the easy slouch of her body in a now-familiar chair, and Root's eyes regarding her warmly. "You probably have things to do." She stood quickly, intent on gathering her things and escaping the strange easiness of sharing time with the taller woman, but Root caught her arm. Sam paused there, trapped a little too close to a seated Root.

"I really don't," Root stated baldly. "And though I wouldn't dream of trying to hold you here against your will," she continued, her hand still lightly attached to Sam's arm, "if you wanted to stay, I think we could have fun." A translucent mask of seduction fell over her openness. "And I am paying you through tomorrow morning, so I may have to insist that you stay the night."

Sam looked down at the hand on her arm, then back up at Root.

"Yeah, all right." She tried to play it off as casual, but she was nearly certain Root could feel her heart beating faster for some odd reason through her hand.

"Yeah?" Root asked hopefully.

"Sure, Root." Sam rolled her eyes. "I might as well get one last dinner out of this before I go."

Root beamed. Sam stood held in place less by the warmth of Root's hand radiating through her arm and more by an overwhelming urge that had been beating in the back of her mind all week. Before it could pass, she closed the distance between her and Root and kissed her.

Her hasty motion caught them both by surprise. Their mouths knocked together unevenly despite Shaw's hands cradling Root's face, but Root slid her hand up to steady Sam's head and eased them both into a softer kiss. She stood up to resolve the awkward angle at which they had begun and leaned in to fit her own lips softly to Sam's. The kiss deepened for a moment, but Sam pulled back before it could go on for too long. Root opened her eyes, her hand still gently gripping the back of Sam's neck, and grinned at Sam's face only inches from her own.

"Looking for more than dinner, Sam?"

Sam smirked back.

"We do have hours until sane people eat dinner," she noted logically.

"I'd hate to get bored," Root mused. "I get destructive when I'm bored."

Shaw looked her up and down as best she could given how close they stood. "Well, _that_ could get interesting."

Root laughed and kissed Sam again. Her wide smile made it difficult to deepen the kiss, so Sam pulled back and loosened her hands from Root's collar. She stepped away, and Root made a protesting noise in the back of her throat.

"Come back," she demanded half-petulantly, half-playfully.

"Come here," Sam countered, pulling Root after her through the kitchen. "I'm not making out with you in the kitchen when there are a half-dozen more comfortable places in this house."

"Been thinking about it a lot, Sameen?" Root murmured happily as she let herself be towed into the living room and propelled toward the couch. She settled against the back of the sofa in a relaxed posture that brought her face-to-face with the shorter woman.

"Maybe," Sam allowed, tucking a strand of hair neatly behind Root's ear and studying her neck. She glanced back up at Root's eyes, which sparkled with a mix of amusement and arousal. She considered warning Root not to let Sam's interest go to her head; she also considered issuing her standard warning that she did not do relationships, no matter how good the sex. She thought about it for a long moment, but the light in Root's eyes illuminated a truth she had been skirting all week: she felt comfortable here, with Root. Maybe the warning was not needed.

"Something you wanted to say, Sameen?" Root asked finally. She seemed to enjoy wrapping her tongue around Sam's name, because she was using it much more than was common.

Sam answered with a hard, sloppy kiss, which only make Root laugh, until Sam moved on to her neck and the laughter turned to hard breathing and soft gasps. Sam pushed until Root sank over the back of the couch, and climbed over after her until she was settled atop Root.

"Do you—"

Sam bit off Root's no doubt flirtatious and unnecessary question by attacking her mouth, then set about silencing her in other ways. She was determined to render Root utterly speechless before dinner. Several times, preferably. Root seemed to sense her intentions and showed no signs of protest.

Sam only stopped once, much later, to check her watch. Root opened her eyes and regarded her through lowered lashes, her head still thrown back.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Nothing," Sam answered with a challenging glint to her eye. "Just making sure we have time."

"For what?" Root asked happily, wrapping her arms comfortably around Sam's bare shoulders.

"To move this upstairs."

Root kissed her instead of answering. They did make it upstairs, much later, but Sam had no complaints about the delay. No complaints at all.

* * *

_Well, that only took a year... truly, I am sorry about that. There will be a final short epilogue that jumps ahead a few months, hopefully up in the next week or so. Thank you for your patience, and I hope y'all like the way it ends!_

_Shoutout to lostinillusia again for being awesome :)_


	7. Epilogue

Months later, Bear comes to visit again.

* * *

An impatient glance through ice-frosted windows finally yielded the sight Sam had been waiting for. Well, not waiting for, exactly. Just that exams were over, and she was waiting on med school acceptances, so there was nothing to do, really, except sit in her favorite chair and pretend to read while Root cleaned. Or more accurately, pretended to clean while actually tinkering.

"Root, stop trying to get that robot to dust the bathroom and get down here, they're here," she called as she swung to her feet.

"Coming," came the vague, muffled reply.

Even though Sam paused to shove her feet into boots and toss on a jacket, she still made it to the car before their guests could gather their things.

"Let me grab that," Sam offered as she took a duffel bag from a sleepy-looking Helena.

"She's teething," the taller woman offered as an explanation once they had exchanged greetings. "Our nights have been far from restful."

"And Root said she's walking?" Sam asked as Myka rounded the car with Bear in her arms. She was loath to admit that she had seen pictures, and under no circumstances would she watch the videos Helena posted on Instagram if anyone but Root was in the room. The involuntary smile was too damning.

"She is," Myka confirmed as Helena opened the trunk. "Earlier than we thought and," she sighed, "so much faster than expected."

"Good for you," Sam told the toddler seriously. Bear whipped around, now paying rapt attention to Sam rather than the gently-falling snow she been so captured by. She lunged out of Helena's arms suddenly, and the diminutive woman caught her easily. "Someday I'm not gonna catch you," Sam warned her, to which Bear only shrieked happily.

"Shall we?" Helena urged breathlessly, stamping her feet and shrugging her shoulders to relieve the weight of the bags she carried. Sam hoisted Bear more securely onto her hip and followed Myka up the path.

They were all shedding coats and boots in the cramped front hall when Root came tripping down the stairs.

"Tr—Root." Myka exclaimed. "Merry Christmas."

The sentiment was echoed by Helena, who had turned to give Same some help with Bear's coat. The toddler drummed her legs excitedly against Sam's side in her excitement.

"Woot!" she screeched. "Wootwootwoot."

Root looked at the baby in surprise, and Shaw loosened her grip so she could lean back and watch the child's excited hands straining for Root.

"We told her who we were coming to see," Myka explained as Root reached hesitantly to receive Bear. "She picked up on the names."

"Both of them?" Root asked, though her eyes never left Bear's contented face as she poked at Root's chin.

Bear answered for her mother with an imperious "'Am?" and a hand flung back to summon Sam to her side.

Sam approached cautiously. She was not quite sure what she had expected, but it was certainly not a sudden, tiny warmth in her chest.

"'Am." Bear pronounced with satisfaction. She turned back to Root, who was squirming to avoid getting poked in the eye. "Woot."

Sam turned back to the two adult travelers, though she remained close so that Bear could continue her tactile exploration of her old babysitter's face.

"There's coffee and cookies in the kitchen," she offered.

"That sounds wonderful," Myka agreed fervently.

Helena reached for their daughter.

"Come, Irene. Time to wash up."

"No!"

* * *

After the battle pitched between Bear and Helena just to wash the child's hands, Sam was glad bathing her was no longer her responsibility. She watched the British woman climbing the stairs while simultaneously restraining her child from kamikaze-ing out of her arms and felt a brief moment of sympathy for Helena. Bath-time clearly meant war.

Chit-chat over dinner had long since covered the topics of school and work for Sam and Root respectively, as well as whatever vague references to their own work Helena and Myka were able to make. After a brief sojourn upstairs to meet Bear's demands that they all tuck her in, the conversation turned to books and movie adaptations.

Sam enjoyed movies and books, sure, but life had been all about the MCAT and med school applications for months. She hadn't watched or read much beyond her study materials in a long time, and certainly couldn't match the fervor with which Root and Myka had started debating the relative merits of a popular book series that had been made into movies.

"I'm going to make coffee," she noted, apparently to no one.

Helena caught her eye and smiled, so Sam raised her eyebrows in an offer.

"Do you want any?"

"I could do with some tea, actually," Helena sighed. She glanced warmly at Myka and Root, neither of whom were paying the slightest attention to their respective partners. "They'll emerge later, and then they can make their own."

Sam nodded and led the way into the kitchen. As the coffee machine gurgled to life, she settled back against the counter and stared at nothing while Helena fill the kettle.

"They're strange ones, aren't they?"

Sam roused herself from a light reverie and looked at Helena.

"Myka and Root," Helena elaborated. "They're a caution unto themselves."

"Yep." Root was certainly strange, and Myka appeared to be more than capable of achieving the same level of queerness. Sam wasn't quite sure what else there was to say.

"Is she doing well? Root, I mean."

"As far as I know." Sam shrugged. "She likes work, if that's what you mean. She looks up to Finch, and she practically worships the woman who runs the company." She wasn't sure what Helena was asking, exactly, but knew that she wasn't willing to give away more than Root had already told her sister. If Helena wanted to know something, she should ask Root.

Helena searched her face for a moment, then smiled.

"I'm glad."

* * *

After coffee, tea, and a half-dozen debates bordering on arguments, Helena started to yawn and stretch. Suddenly, Sam realized how late it was, and how long she'd been awake, and how tired she was, even though she'd barely done anything all day.

"I'm going to head up," she advised Root.

"Yeah, I think we're about done for the night, too," Myka rejoined after a quick, silent exchange with her wife.

Root smiled and swung to her feet.

"Carry me," she ordered Sam dramatically.

Sam sighed and rolled her eyes. No way she was doing that with other people around.

"I told you, it's your turn to carry me."

Root's eyes sparkled at the joke, and Myka huffed a laugh. A smile tucked itself in the corner of Sam's mouth as she turned to the stairs.

Later, with Root's feet tucked between her own and her arm settled at Root's waist, Sam thought of what Helena had told her in the kitchen and smiled.

"I'm glad she has you. Myka worries, as perhaps she should, but she hasn't had to nearly as much as she used to, thanks to you."

What she hadn't told Helena was that she was glad that she had Root, too.

* * *

Well, that's it! I'm sorry this took so long to publish, and I'm afraid that even after all this time, it's not very good. Thank you to everyone who read it and enjoyed it :)


End file.
